


Too Long A Sacrifice

by ohinyan



Series: Hidden [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohinyan/pseuds/ohinyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Jack has been taken into UNIT custody, accused of crimes against humanity while working for the Master on the Valiant. A dark fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my story Hidden Behind Our Appearances. You need to read that one first. Too Long A Sacrifice is Part 2 of the trilogy. In Part 3 Torchwood will find out the truth and be reunited with Jack.

Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart.

William Butler Yeats

 

 

 

 

The Torchwood team watched as Jack was escorted to a helicopter by UNIT soldiers. He looked wrecked, emotionally, and physically, from the beating the rebels had given him.. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Jack saw them standing near the helicopter and struggled against his captors, trying to get over to them. As the UNIT soldiers started to drag Jack away, he shouted to his team. “I wasn't really working for the Master. I did it for you, for all of you. Ask Tish!” He was practically sobbing now. “I was trying to help. I did help the resistance.”

 

The team just watched impassively, unwilling to listen to anything he said.

 

“Remember, Ianto, please remember,” Jack called.

 

Ianto, who didn't have a clue what Jack was asking him to remember, just did his best to ignore him.

 

Jack wouldn't give up though. “I would never have betrayed you Ianto. I love you.”

 

“Don't Jack,” shouted Ianto,“ at the end of his tether. “You did betray me, you betrayed all of us. There's nothing you can say now to make it any better or to wriggle out of this. You got in bed with the wrong side Jack, literally, and now you have to live with the consequences.”

 

Although Jack understood their attitude, it was still devastating that even Ianto couldn't see through the facade he had been forced to put on. He looked directly at Ianto and, remembering their time together in the Master's secret room, said huskily, “I know you love me, Ianto.”

 

But Ianto just looked at him coldly and said, “no Jack, at first I was seducing you to protect Lisa, then it was just better than nothing, and now I never want anything more to do with you.”

 

The hurt spiked through Jack as a physical pain. All the fight went out of him, at Ianto's statement. He was heartbroken, and nothing else seemed to matter. He went meekly as the UNIT soldiers got him aboard the helicopter, that was to take him from the Valiant down to the UNIT holding facility. There they were keeping those who were to go on trial as collaborators for crimes against humanity.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Tosh looked at the others with agitation. “We can't just let UNIT take him,” she argued. “No matter what he has done. No one deserves to be handed over to them.”

 

“Oh, don't be such a bleeding heart Tosh,” snapped Owen. “It won't be that bad.”

 

Tosh had never told the others about her incarceration at UNIT, or about Jack saving her from that hell. “Can't we keep him at Torchwood,” she pleaded. “He'd still be locked up, but we'd be in charge of him and not UNIT.”

 

“No way,” Ianto replied angrily. “I'm not babysitting a long term prisoner, and definitely not Jack. If I never see him again it'll be too soon. And anyway, he knows Torchwood security inside out. We wouldn't be able to hold him.”

 

Gwen was adamantly in agreement with Owen and Ianto, so Tosh had to reluctantly accept that Jack would go to the UNIT prison. She shuddered. She just prayed that they would treat him better than they had treated her.

 

* * *

 

The helicopter journey took an hour. Jack sat in stony silence the whole way. The UNIT guards ignored him until they landed. When the rotors stopped moving, two of them manhandled Jack out of the door onto the helipad. They marched him across to the main building to be processed. Jack did not recognise the facility. It was not one that he had visited before.

 

He was stripped, and searched very thoroughly, including internally. They made no concessions to the fact that he was injured, and offered no medical treatment. When they had finished they gave him back the clothes he had been wearing; the black ones the Master had had him wear. Jack was extremely surprised by this, as he had expected to be given UNIT's standard prison jumpsuit.

 

He was then escorted to a cell. Compared to other UNIT cells he had seen, it was palatial. There was a bench for a bed, a window and a basic loo.

 

The soldier in charge turned to Jack and announced, “This is a temporary holding facility. You will be kept here until the outcome of your hearing. At that time you will be transferred elsewhere.” He turned away muttering under his breath, “a proper UNIT prison where scum like you damn well should be.”

 

Jack heard him and flinched. This is what everyone would think of him, unless he could clear his name. He had to hope that they would listen, and that the fact that he acted under duress would count for something. With the Master dead he only had three witnesses. Tish, Stevens and Modine. And the two guards would never willingly help him by telling the truth.

 

The guard locked Jack's cell and left.

 

 

* * * *

 

A couple of hours later, there was a ruckus as two more prisoners were brought into the cell block. They were dragged past Jack's cell and his heart lurched as he recognised Stevens and Modine. They saw him too. When the guards escorting them had left, Modine called down the corridor to him.

 

“Are you there Freak? I bet you didn't expect to get lumped in with us did you? But it gives us a chance to reminisce about old times.”

 

Jack trembled violently. Stevens and Modine had frequently tortured him under the Master's direction. His body remembered and reacted.

 

“You must be missing his cock,” Stevens continued,. “and all those special times you had together.”

 

Though the Master had rarely let them see him rape Jack, Stevens and Modine knew that it was happening frequently, and violently. Once, as a reward for performing a particularly nasty torture session, the Master had let them stay. Already turned on by the violence they'd been allowed to use on Jack, it had not taken long for them both to come just from watching.

 

Jack curled into a ball in his cell, and tried to stop the tremors by holding himself really tight. It did no good, the shaking increased as their taunts brought the memories crashing back down on him.

 

* * * * *

 

For the next three weeks, Jack, Stevens and Modine were basically ignored. Jack's injuries healed, despite the lack of medical attention. They received food and water three times a day, and were not interrogated in any way. Jack held on to the hope that, since UNIT hadn't immediately put him in their worst prison, they were going to listen to the outcome of his trial. He wished that he knew when that would take place.

 

With nothing to do but brood, Jack was tormented by his own thoughts. Memories of pain and blood assailed him all the time, including in his dreams. He was aware that he was still in shock. The world was going by in a dreamlike, slow motion, and he spent many hours sleeping, despite the nightmares. For someone who, before the Valiant, had slept only two or three hours a night it was a massive change.

 

In his waking hours there was too much time to think. On bad days, thoughts swirled around in his head. Time had reset. The team would have been alive and unharmed, no matter what had happened to them on the Valiant. This meant that all that he did was for nothing. He had sold his body and soul to the Master, for nothing. He was damned, for nothing.

 

On good days, he could just about convince himself that it wasn't for nothing. They would have been tortured to death slowly, and he would have been forced to watch. He saved them. He did.


	2. Chapter 2

He should be honoured that he rated the attention of a UNIT Colonel, Jack mused, when Colonel Oduya walked into his cell. They had crossed swords many times when Torchwood had clashed with UNIT. He knew that the Colonel would be ecstatic to have got him in this position now.

 

The Colonel gazed down at him, as he sat on the bunk, with barely disguised glee. “So Harkness, you have blotted your copybook now haven't you. Treason against Her Majesty, aiding and abetting an alien invasion force, betraying humanity, torture and murder. They are going to lock you up and throw away the key.”

 

“I'm not guilty.”

 

“That's not what your trial said,” answered Oduya.

 

“What trial?” Jack asked incredulously, “there hasn't been a trial yet.”

 

“You were tried in absentia, and found guilty of all charges.”

 

“You can't railroad me like that!” Jack protested in dawning horror.

 

“There were several witnesses to you torturing members of the resistance to death, including all the Torchwood staff. Do you deny it?”

 

“No,“ Jack admitted, “but I was forced to do it. It's wrong to condemn me without letting me explain. Ask Tish Jones, or even Modine or Stevens!”

 

“There could never be a good reason for actions like yours,” sneered Oduya. “I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses.”

 

“Did you ask them for their evidence ?” demanded Jack.

 

“Modine and Stevens did not make any statements that would have any bearing on your case. They have also been found guilty, and were both executed immediately after the verdict.”

 

Jack closed his eyes. He had wondered where Stevens and Modine had been taken, three days before. So Tish was his last hope. “Did you ask Tish?”

 

Oduya had been thoroughly briefed about the events of the nine months that never was. “Miss Jones was evacuated from the Valiant, along with her parents, before the paradox machine was disabled.”

 

Jack was stunned. He knew that a lot of people had been evacuated, but why would Tish go with them? Surely she would have told someone about him. She would not have abandoned him. A sick feeling began to build in him as his last hope for justice drained away.

 

“This is totally unjust!”

 

“It's military justice, and since you can't be executed, you've been sentenced to life imprisonment. Torchwood are being informed of the verdict.”

 

“You can't do this to me,” whispered Jack, knowing in his heart that they could, and would, do it. The unfairness of it all was soul destroying. He had suffered for over nine months at the hands of the Master, done his utmost to protect his team and help the rebels, and this was his reward. Practically all of humanity had no longer lived those months. They all had their sins and traumas erased. Why could he not have been given the same chance?

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

In the Torchwood Hub, Gwen was on the phone to UNIT. She hung up and called the others to the main office. “That was UNIT,” she reported smiling. “Jack's trial has been completed and he has been found guilty. He's been sentenced to life imprisonment.”

 

“Fantastic,” Owen crowed.

 

Ianto also looked pleased.

 

Only Tosh seemed upset. “How can you be so happy,” she yelled at them. “Jack was our friend once, and now he'll be in a UNIT prison indefinitely. You know what life will mean for Jack.”

 

“You know what he did, Tosh,”exclaimed Ianto. “For god's sake, you watched him do it, we all did. No one who tortures and murders like that deserves any sympathy.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Jack was moved to a high security UNIT prison the following day. Hands cuffed behind his back, he was bundled into a windowless van which drove for three hours. He had no idea where the facility was. As he was unloaded, he saw a low featureless building, with a high fence topped with loops of barbed wire. It looked exactly the type of depressing prison that Tosh had been held in.

 

They marched him into the building, between four guards. Once inside, he was ordered to strip and shower. He was searched invasively, then given a a red jumpsuit to wear, but no socks or shoes. He was taken down endless corridors deep into the bowels of the building, where he was locked in a cell containing only a basic drain for waste removal and no other furnishings. When the guards left him and closed the door it was pitch black.

 

At least Tosh had a window Jack thought. I must be considered a worse class of prisoner.

 

A voice echoed from a point high on the ceiling.

 

“This is a UNIT facility.

Your rights as a citizen have been withdrawn.

You will be held here indefinitely.

We are not required to provide you with legal representation.

Anything you say will be recorded.

You will be allowed no communication with any person or organisation outside this facility.

There is no right of appeal.

If you fail to comply with the rules we are authorised to discipline you.”

 

Jack crouched down in misery in the dark, trembling as he so often did now, and cried in despair.


	3. Chapter 3

For weeks the only contact Jack had with anyone, was the meal he was given through a small hatch twice a day. For most people, the food given would have been practically inedible, and also too insubstantial. But, Jack had been half starved on the Valiant, and he found it a step up from what the Master had allowed him. Being given water twice a day was also what he considered a luxury. It wasn't as good as the treatment he had received at the holding facility, but, if UNIT were trying to soften him up, they wouldn't succeed like this.

 

It was boring in the cell, but on the Valiant Jack had learned to welcome boredom, as all the prisoners did. When the alternative was pain and humiliation, or hate and vicious verbal attacks from those he loved, boredom was a boon. The only snag was the thinking time it gave him.

 

In an effort to avoid thinking, Jack exercised. He had been chained most of the time on the Valiant, and he was incredibly unfit. He paced around the cell, whose dimensions he had down perfectly, so that he never banged into a wall. His feet, bare on the rough concrete, toughened up gradually as he did so. He did press ups, crunchies, and other general exercises to build up his fitness. The lack of food did limit him, however. If he was well fed, he could have exercised non-stop. As it was his physical weakness meant that he had to think too much.

 

While awake, Jack tormented himself trying to think of ways that he could have done things differently, avoided becoming a monster. Perhaps Torchwood and UNIT were right, there was no excuse, and he did truly deserve to be here. Even Tish had abandoned him in the end. He was now truly alone.

 

 

Sleeping gave no respite. His nightmares were constant. Dreams of dying over and over, alternated with those of brutally murdering others. In his dreams it was Ianto that he killed, or friends and lovers that he had known. He felt that he was slowly going insane from the memories and the dreams. Perhaps he already was insane. Who wouldn't be, after nine months of the Master's tender mercies.

 

As a man who had been unable to sleep for more than a couple of hours per night, for over one hundred years, he had read a lot. One of Shakespeare's sonnets kept running through his head.

When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,  
I all alone beweep my outcast state,  
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,  
And look upon myself and curse my fate,  
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,  
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,  
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,  
With what I most enjoy contented least,  
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,  
Like to the lark at break of day arising  
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate  
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,  
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

And he remembered the night when Ianto loved him.

 

* * * *

 

After several weeks, Jack was finally taken out of his cell and taken to an interrogation room. He was barely able to open his eyes in the strong light, trying to adjust after so long in the dark. Colonel Oduya was present, along with four guards armed with tasers and truncheons. They shoved him into a chair, on the opposite side of the desk from the Colonel.

 

“So, Harkness, you've had the easy life long enough, now it's time to get down to business.”

 

“What business?” Jack asked dully.

 

“You must be aware that UNIT has been keen to get its hands on you for years. It was only the protection that Torchwood, and the Queen, afforded you, that prevented them pulling you in before.”

 

Jack was well aware of this. UNIT and Torchwood had been bitter rivals for decades. He was amazed that it had taken so long for UNIT to start their interrogation. Of course, they probably considered being locked in the dark for weeks, with barely enough food and water to live on, as part of it.

 

“Now you belong to us,” Oduya continued. “You have no legal rights. We require you to tell us everything we want to know.”

 

“And what do you want to know?”

 

“We want information on the artifacts in Torchwood's secure archives, the security codes for the archives and the Hub, and any information you have on the Doctor.”

 

“Oh, not much then,” Jack murmured.

 

“Save the sarcasm, Harkness. You betrayed Torchwood and the Doctor, to the Master. You shouldn't have a problem doing it again for us. And don't expect us to take no for an answer. You are murdering scum, and a traitor to the human race. The men here know what you did,. and we will have no qualms about hurting you to get what we want.”

 

Inwardly, Jack cried out. Was there never going to be an end to it ? Was nine months of agony not enough? He could be in UNIT hands for years, or decades. And there would be no help. There would be no rescue. He was under no illusions. There was no one who gave a damn what happened to him. The Doctor had abandoned him once, and tried to a second time. He had presumably left him in UNIT custody, without a qualm. And Torchwood; they all hated him. They'd be pleased to have him locked away here. Except maybe Tosh. Perhaps she would worry about him, despite her antipathy.

 

Bitterness rolled over him, and the wall he had been building around his heart for months on the Valiant got stronger. If only he had let them all die, he would be happy now, with them back at Torchwood. One death each, would that have been so bad ?


	4. Chapter 4

They left Jack overnight to think about his response, not that he needed the time. There was no way he would betray Torchwood or the Doctor, no matter what they thought of him. If the Colonel had known the true version of events on the Valiant, he would know that Jack would not give in to torture. Ironically the Master had never used it to try to get information out of him. He just tortured and raped for his own twisted pleasure.

* * * *

UNIT didn't have the finesse of the Master. They alternated beating Jack in his cell, dragging him out and waterboarding him, and making him hold strained postures for hours at a time. As the weeks went by, they escalated the violence. But they never got him to say anything. To Jack it was barely worth his notice, so used was he to pain and suffering.

Eventually, after months of failure to extract any information from Jack, UNIT brought in a new man. Major Stamford had a reputation as someone who could get information out of the most reluctant individuals. He studied the case file on Jack carefully, and all the information available about the Valiant. He decided to change the approach.

* * * *

The four guards hauled Jack along the corridor to the interrogation room. He couldn't stand unaided, and so they dumped him in the chair. This time they attached his wrists and ankles to the chair with plastic ties. They had changed him out of his jumpsuit, and put sweatpants and a short sleeved T-shirt on him instead.

Jack looked up at the new interrogator through eyes that were almost swollen shut.

 

“I hear you have not been cooperating, Harkness,” he said mildly. “Instead of more pain, I've decided to give you something that you will like.” He motioned to the guards. Two of them went to grab Jack by the shoulders, to keep him still. A third opened a case, and withdrew a syringe. He tied a ligature around Jack's upper arm, then approached him with the syringe.

 

Memories of the Master doing the same, and what that had led to, gave Jack extra motivation. He fought as much as he could, trying to keep the syringe away. But tied as he was, and held down by the guards, he couldn't prevent them injecting him with the contents of the syringe.

 

The guards let go and left Jack in the chair.

 

“Don't worry, Harkness,” the Major said softly, “you'll love it.”

 

Within seconds of the injection, Jack felt a warmth in his abdomen. This spread through his whole body rapidly. All his feelings of fear and sorrow, and the memories that plagued him through all his waking and sleeping moments, melted away. They took Jack back to his cell and threw him inside, locking him into the darkness once more. Jack barely knew what was happening. His eyes were glazed, and he was floating in a haze of bliss. It was the most perfect experience he had had in years. Hours passed and he barely noticed when the guards came in and gave him another dose.

 

When the second dose wore off enough for Jack to become aware of his surroundings, he was given food and water. Then the guards came in again and held him down while they administered another dose. They left a large bottle of water in the cell with him.

 

The pattern continued like this for a few days. A dose was given every 12 hours. Jack was in heaven. All the traumas of the Valiant vanished, replaced with euphoria. It was a far better respite from his pain than the short intervals of death he had had on the Valiant. He now got hours of blissful forgetfulness. He began to crave the next dose, becoming impatient waiting for it to arrive.

 

Then one day it didn't arrive.

 

Jack paced his cell in the dark for hours, knowing the exact number of paces it took to get from one side to the other. He wanted the next dose. He wanted to forget the Master and the Valiant and Torchwood , but the more he tried to ignore those memories the more they pressed in on him. He remembered the agony and the humiliation, the rapes and the deaths. Remembered the blood, his own and that of his victims. Remembered being hated by those he loved. He needed the drug to make him forget again.

 

They were late! What were they doing? They had to come soon.

 

But they didn't.

 

By now Jack was starting to feel physical effects of withdrawal. He was shaking, sweating and felt sick. He was starting to stumble during his pacing.

 

Still no one came. It had been days.

 

The stomach cramps got stronger and stronger, so he was barely able to keep upright, never mind pace. He slumped into a corner of the cell but quickly got up and struggled towards the drain in the other corner to throw up. He slumped down again, this time next to the drain and wrapped his arms around himself against the chills that he felt.

 

After another day, the the physical symptoms he had been showing faded away, but the intense desire to forget was as strong, if not stronger than ever. Jack had had a taste of oblivion, of an escape from the horrors that he had lived, and he desperately wanted it back.

 

* * * * *

 

Hours later, one of the guards brought Jack food and water. He helped Jack sit upright to drink. “I'm sorry,” the guard said. “They'll just keep on doing this until you talk. You'd better tell them what you know.”

 

Jack merely turned away in disdain.

 

The guard's partner yelled through the door, “Peterson will you get a move on, we're running late.”

 

Peterson rose and left the cell, locking it securely behind him.

 

* * * *

 

A day later, several guards arrived at his cell, accompanied by Major Stamford.. They hauled Jack upright, facing the Major.

 

“So, Harkness. Do you have anything you wish to tell me?” he asked.

 

“You have the most beautiful brown eyes,” was Jack's sarcastic response.

 

The Major did not react to the baiting. “I suppose you'll need a bit more persuasion then,” was his calm reply. “We'll up the dose this time.” He signaled to one of the guards, who moved in on Jack with a syringe while the other guards held him.

 

A minute later they released Jack, who fell heavily on the floor. He rolled onto his back, eyes unfocused., his psyche embracing oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack was vaguely aware of the presence of others in his cell. But he could not be bothered to open his eyes and check. He could hear them talking though.

“We have upped his dose from the original 10mg to 300mg now,” one of the guards was saying. “And he's still refusing to talk when we withhold it.”

A voice, that Jack recognised as Major Stamford, answered the first voice. “Well, keep on increasing it. If we make a mistake and raise it too fast he'll OD, but in his case that wouldn't really matter. And if the heroin doesn't work there are other, more unusual, drugs that we could try instead. But patience is the key. He isn't going anywhere, we have the time to work him up to a huge dose, and then see what happens if we cut off his supply.”

* * * *

After three weeks of the new drug regime, Jack was up to a massive 2500mg dose. Even chronic users would OD on this, but Jack's immortality, or his 51st century physiology, made him able to take more. They had only accidentally killed him twice, in the process of addicting him. And even death did not remove the addiction. The physical addiction was gone, but not the psychological craving. Jack had managed to hide that from them, though, so they had provided the hits that he desperately wanted, while thinking they needed to addict him again.

Unbeknown to Major Stamford, the heroin was working far better than he could ever have anticipated. Jack was able to deal with the physical aspects of withdrawal when they withheld his supply. It was nowhere near as bad as things he had dealt with on the Valiant. But they had hit pay dirt with the psychological addiction. Jack's slightly different biology made him far more susceptible to the psychological aspect than 21st century humans were. That, combined with the fact that what he craved more than anything else in the universe was to forget the Master, the Valiant, and the attitude of his Torchwood team, made the drug irresistible to Jack. And the effect was increasing with every increase in the dose.

Jack was now a wreck when the heroin was withheld. He had already been broken by he Master. He had nothing left to fight with. The memories haunted him all the time unless he could get his fix. If it was not provided, he could cope for a while. But, as the time from his last fix increased, the memories became more and more vivid and if he was left for days he would effectively relive them. The pull of the oblivion that the drug provided was overwhelming. And eventually Jack could not resist.

He started by giving them the codes for the Hub. He told himself that that was OK. Torchwood would have changed all the codes that he knew the minute they returned from the Valiant. And one code bought one fix. But then he ran out of codes. So he told them everything he knew about the Doctor. What did that matter? UNIT knew far more about the Doctor, and the TARDIS, than he ever did. That kept his supply going for another month.

* * * *

Gwen and Tosh were manning the Hub when the computer alert sounded. “What's going on?” Gwen asked Tosh.

Tosh brought up various files and checked. “Someone has tried to hack into our files. But they are using an outdated code, so they failed to get in.”

“What code?”

“I'm just trying to find out,” Tosh responded, as she backtracked through the system. “It's Jack's code,” she said with surprise.”

 

Gwen was shocked. “How could he be hacking into the files? You don't get computer access in a UNIT prison, I'm sure.”

 

“No,” agreed Tosh. And she knew for a fact that no prisoner would ever get near a computer. “He must have given UNIT his codes. They'd just love to sniff around Torchwood.'s records.”

“Oh my god, what about all the other codes he knew?” Gwen cried. We could have UNIT walking in here any moment and confiscating stuff from the archives.”

“There's no need to worry,” Tosh reassured her. “It's standard procedure when an operative leaves. All their access codes for the Hub itself and the computer are deactivated. I did it myself. Jack should have known that.” He really should have known Tosh mused, with a tinge of worry. So why would he bother to give UNIT useless codes.

* * * *

 

Major Stamford and Colonel Oduya were having a meeting to discuss the progress with Jack Harkness. They had coffee and biscuits laid out on a table in front of them, and Oduya was reading through a file of all the information that Jack had given them so far.

 

“I have to hand it to you,” said Oduya. “You really hit the jackpot. Who would have thought that Harkness would be so susceptible to an ordinary drug like heroin.”

 

“I must admit,” agreed Stamford, “that it surprised me as well. I expected to have to try different drugs, until we found one he would be unable to resist. I was even planning on using some 'special' ones, developed by Torchwood 1 from alien sources. But, I think the psychological aspect of it is having a much enhanced effect. He seems to crave that more than the physical high.”

 

“He hasn't given you anything really useful yet though,” Oduya commented.

 

“True, but it's early days. He's getting used to giving information. At the moment he's trying to keep it to things that don't matter. But I don't think he'll be able to draw a line between what matters, and what doesn't, when he's desperate enough. With patience, and careful handling, I think he'll spill everything he knows.”

 

“And after that?” queried Oduya,” when he's told us everything. We can't execute him.”

 

“He'll still be addicted,” acknowledged Stamford. “He'll just have to manage. Withdraw again, unless he can persuade anyone to give him a hit.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning dub-con.

Six months later

Jack was sobbing. He would do practically anything for another dose. But not betray Ianto. He only had one secret left; Lisa. But, if he told UNIT about Lisa, then Ianto would end up in the UNIT prison along with him. He had suffered so much to protect Ianto, and the rest of the team. He would not throw that away now. He'd convinced the Major, and Colonel Oduya, that he had told them everything he could remember. He would not sacrifice Ianto for just one more hit.

 

Two guards had brought him his meager rations, and he threw himself on his knees begging them for heroin. They just laughed and said mockingly, “you've got nothing to pay with now. You've told us everything we want to know.”

 

Jack was so desperate he cried out. “Please, I'll do anything, Just tell me what you want from me !”

 

One of the guards looked contemplative. “Before the Valiant you had quite a reputation,” he said, “for shagging anything that moved. You must be really good, with all that practice.”

 

“I am,” agreed Jack, eagerly. “I could show you.” He moved forward on his knees, and moved to undo the guards zip.

 

The guard turned to his partner, “get the other lads, they won't want to miss this.”

 

His partner hurried away, leaving the guard alone with Jack. He held his gun ready, and aimed at Jack's head, to make sure he would not take the opportunity to try to escape.

 

As Jack took the guard into his mouth, the guard's partner arrived back with two more pairs of guards. The five of them crowded around and watched as Jack sucked the first guard.

 

That guard was groaning and had an expression of bliss on his face. He had lain his gun aside when the others arrived. “Oh god, you are good, “ he gasped. He grasped Jack by the hair to hold him in place, and started thrusting wildly. Jack relaxed his throat muscles and took it. Two minutes later the guard came, pumping his seed down Jack's throat. Jack managed to swallow it all before the other soldiers dragged him up and off the first one.

 

“You do that for all of us,” growled the first guard's partner, “and we'll give you the heroin.”

 

Jack was now standing in the circle of guards. They grabbed him, and pushed him around the circle roughly. “Who's going to be next then?” asked the first guard. They were all laughing.

 

A particularly violent shove pushed Jack into the arms of one of the other soldiers and he was pushed down to his knees in front of him. Dutifully he unzipped him and began.

 

It was over an hour later, when he had done all six guards, that they left him. His knees, throat, and mouth, were bruised and tender. But they kept their word, and one of them came back and injected him with a full dose of heroin.

 

Jack smiled as he lay back on the filthy floor, and welcomed oblivion.

 

* * * *

 

Jack was roused from his lethargy, by a guard holding a bottle of water to his lips. He tried to push him away, and retreat back into semi-consciousness, but the guard was insistent, and forced him to drink some water. Jack vaguely recognised him as the guard who had given him water before. He had not been present when the six guards were using him.

 

* * * *

Prostituting himself to the soldiers, in return for heroin, became the norm for Jack. He could hold out for two or three days between doses, but then the memories and psychological pressure got too much. He ended up begging them to use him, in return for a hit. Though the situation was far from ideal, he was grateful that they never raped him. They always waited for him to offer. He had no moral problem with prostitution, or fear of sex itself, but the Master had instilled an awful fear of rape in him. As long as he felt that this was his choice, and the soldiers did not force him into acts he did not want to do, he could cope with it. He did not want to find out what would happen if he ever said no to them.

 

The guards had divided into two groups, those that liked to fuck him, and those who wanted to be sucked off. The worst thing about it was the mob mentality. Being on your hands and knees, surrounded by baying soldiers, all egging their mates on, was terrifying.

 

Jack knew that the guards must have the tacit approval of their superiors, since the sex for heroin arrangement would be impossible to miss. Perhaps this prevented things spiraling out of control into rape, as it so easily could have.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning dub-con

Months later

Jack was on his hands and knees again, paying for the heroin he needed. It was the turn of the last guard, and Jack just zoned out and counted the minutes until he would get his reward. At last he was released, and one of the guards brought out the syringe. The others left, to continue their patrols, as their colleague knelt beside Jack and lifted his arm to insert the needle. He was pressing the plunger home when the emergency klaxon sounded. The guard jerked in surprise, as he finished pressing, and the syringe tore through Jack's vein and out of the other side. Jack felt a burning in his arm, as most of the heroin pooled in a blister under his skin, instead of entering his bloodstream. Despite this Jack had received enough to lapse into semi-consciousness in seconds.

Believing that Jack would be in a stupor for several hours, the guard leaped up and dashed out of the cell, aiming to be back at his proper station before his superiors realised he was not where he should be. In his haste, he closed the cell door roughly and failed to lock it. The door bounced slightly, and settled a few millimetres ajar.

Only minutes later, Jack came back to consciousness. The tiny dose he had received, had affected him only briefly. Confused, he sat up and looked around. The klaxon was still sounding. His first thought was anger and frustration that he had been cheated of his proper payment, but then he noticed the crack of light coming through the tiny gap near the door.

Still partly under the influence of the heroin, he stood unsteadily, and staggered towards the door. He pushed it gingerly, almost unbelieving when it swung open. There was no one in sight. Jack was compos mentis enough to realise that this was the best chance of escape he might ever get, and he could not pass it up. He pulled his sweatpants and T-shirt on quickly, then ventured quietly down the corridor, and up a set of steps he found at the end. The building seemed to be deserted. Whatever had distracted the guards, so that they did not lock his cell, had obviously required their presence elsewhere.

The klaxon had now stopped . Moving as fast as he could, without making noise, Jack soon found himself at ground level and an exit. He could see across asphalt to the fence. It was a significant distance from the building, and topped with curls of barbed wire. But there were no guards in sight. Despite his lack of shoes, Jack ducked low and ran across the asphalt, climbing the fence and forcing himself through the barbed wire at the top. It ripped his clothes, and tore his skin, but that did not stop him. He had received some serious gashes, but they could be dealt with later, one way or another. For now he had to put as much distance between himself and the UNIT prison as he could.

Jack could hear the noise of a road in the distance, and he ran towards it, far enough from the prison now to no longer worry about noise. A greater danger was the trail of blood he was leaving. Once they started looking, the guards would be able to follow him easily.

The road was a busy one, with a continuous stream of cars and lorries. Hiding in a lorry would be his best chance, but they were moving too fast. In the distance though, Jack could see a bridge for pedestrians. It would be risky, but he could use that to get on a lorry. Running towards it, Jack formulated a plan. He needed a canvas covered lorry to pass under it, to give him a good chance of jumping onto the roof, without being heard and not bouncing straight off. On the bridge, he carefully watched both ways, until he saw a likely candidate approaching. He couldn't be too picky; UNIT soldiers could appear at any moment. Taking his chance, he jumped from the bridge as the lorry passed underneath it. It wasn't much of a drop, but the lorry was moving fast, and he had to grab at the ropes around the canvas to stop himself rolling off.

He held on for hours, while the lorry headed south on the nearby motorway, until it finally slowed and turned into Forton services. Jack was exhausted by this point and freezing. He had lost a lot of blood, and his clothes were a mess. He'd draw far too much attention like this, he had to find more clothes. The lorry was parked in a forest of lorries. A few drivers were wandering too and fro. Jack lay in wait, and when one man, of about the right size, walked past, he dropped heavily onto him and knocked him out with one punch. Pulling him behind a lorry, he quickly stripped off his clothes and shoes and changed into them. He rolled his own clothes up and hid them in the back of another, random, lorry.

Jack had seen signposts as he hung onto his lorry, and knew that he was on the M6 just south of Lancaster. Years ago, he had created caches in a few major cities. The nearest of these would be Manchester. There he could access money, clothes and a fake ID. He needed to hitch a lift, surreptitious or otherwise, south towards Manchester.

Jack hid in the back of another lorry, with the logo Smith Haulage of Preston written on the side. As he hoped, this lorry did indeed head down the M6 and then into Preston itself. It parked at a depot close to the city centre, and Jack slipped out and headed off to look for the train station. The need for heroin was growing in him again, but he pushed it down. He had to get somewhere safe before he could think about that.

He needed to get to Piccadilly train station, in Manchester. That was close to the Village, where he had left his cache with a man who owed him a significant favour. Jack was the only person who knew of this, so it should be safe to go there. It was a significant walk to Preston train station, but he eventually made it. He was lucky that the man whose clothes he had stolen, had a wallet with a small amount of money in it. It would be enough for the train fare. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested for fare dodging. Forty five minutes after boarding the train, he arrived at Piccadilly station.

* * * *

It had been years since Jack had visited Manchester so he had to reacquaint himself with the route to his cache. Fortunately there was a local map at the train station, and it was only a short walk to his destination. He knocked at the door, and waited for a minute, until an old man answered. “I've come for my things,” was all Jack said. The man nodded, and went back into the house, returning five minutes later with a small suitcase.

“Thanks,” said Jack

“Good luck,” was the reply.

An hour later, Jack was checking in to a cheap, seedy hotel in the Village. It was close to midnight. He really should do something about the gashes from the barbed wire, but he was exhausted, so that would have to wait for the next day. There was no shower, so after a quick bath, to wash the blood and other fluids off his body, he collapsed in an exhausted sleep on his bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I know nothing about drug taking or the scene in Manchester. I base the details in the story on things I have researched on the internet. So please forgive any glaring inaccuracies.

The next day, Jack woke from the most comfortable night's sleep he had had in years. The sun was high in the sky, so he knew he had slept a long time. He jerked upright, and looked around the room, remembering where he was. Since UNIT had not yet burst in, he hoped that they had not managed to track him to Manchester. They would certainly have zeroed in on reports of a man attacked for his clothes at the motorway services. But, there was such a huge volume of traffic through the services, both north and south bound, that Jack prayed that they would not be able to track him any further.

Getting off the bed, with some difficulty, he looked down at his naked body. He had several deep gashes across his sides, arms, and legs. They were still bleeding sluggishly, and had got the hotel sheets bloody. He needed to fix them, and clean up again. Moving to the tiny kitchenette, he looked through the drawers, and took out the largest knife he could find. He stepped into the bathroom and sat in the empty bath, then stabbed himself through the heart, pulling the knife out as he died. When he revived, he cleaned up the bath and then himself. He was now free of the gashes and, as a bonus, the track marks on his arms had also disappeared.

Jack sat on the bed, and looked through the suitcase he had collected the night before. There was underwear, a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sweatshirt, plus socks, trainers and a jacket. In a large envelope were £1000 in ten pound notes, and the paperwork for his fake ID, Brian Woodruff.

Jack put the clothes on, finding them a little baggy. He had lost a lot of weight during his time on the Valiant, and in the UNIT prison. At least the trainers fit well. Pocketing the cash and ID, he headed out to look for an internet cafe. He needed to access the bank account that he had set up for Brian Woodruff. At least he wasn't going to be short of money, Brian was very well off. Noticing an abandoned newspaper outside the hotel, Jack looked at the date. He was stunned to find that he had spent two years in UNIT custody. It had been difficult to keep track, even before they started drugging him, and after that time had passed in a blur, but he found it hard to believe that it had been so long.

* * *

Sitting at a terminal with a sandwich and a strong black coffee, the first in he didn't know how long, Jack set to work. He accessed the bank account via a roundabout route, going through several different servers. When he reached it, he was shocked to discover that the bank account was frozen. Backing out of it quickly, he rerouted through a few different servers, and checked the accounts for the other IDs that he had set up in his caches. All six accounts were frozen. Clearly UNIT had found the accounts, and hence the IDs. So they were all useless. Though devastated to lose access to his money and ID, Jack was grateful that UNIT had made the tactical error of freezing the accounts. If they had not done so, he would have used the ID, and been picked up within days.

So, Jack took stock of his assets. The clothes he stood up in, a hotel room paid for two more nights, and just under £1000 in cash. No ID, no access to more money, and no way to get a legitimate job. He desperately needed money, and quickly. It briefly crossed his mind to go to Torchwood for help, but he dismissed that idea bitterly. They would turn him over to UNIT in a heartbeat.

He needed heroin. The partial dose he had got from the UNIT soldier, before he escaped, had taken the edge off long enough for him to make it this far, but it wasn't going to last. He could already feel the memories crowding into his mind. He had to find a fix, and soon, before he became too desperate to function. Having stayed in Manchester before, albeit years ago, Jack knew that there were dodgy areas of the Village where you could buy just about any drug. And, for now, he had enough money to buy some.

 

 

* * * *

 

That evening, when the pubs and clubs opened, Jack set out in search of heroin. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. In a pub, notorious for both drugs and rent boys, he was soon approached by a man offering him his choice.

 

Jack had overheard enough at the UNIT prison to be aware of what dose they had him up to. He needed 2.5g per fix. “How much for 5g of heroin ?”

 

“Whew, that's a lot, it'll be very expensive,” the dealer replied.

 

“Just tell me how much,” Jack demanded.

 

“£500 for that amount.”

 

Jack cringed. He knew he needed a huge dose, courtesy of UNIT, but there was no way he'd be able to keep paying for it. Just the amount needed to tide him over for a week, was exorbitant.

 

Seeing his hesitation, the dealer looked angry and started to leave. “If you can't afford it, don't waste my time,” he grunted.

 

Jack thought fast, and grabbed him by the sleeve. What worked at the UNIT prison should work here. “Wait, please. I can afford it this time.” He showed the dealer his money. “But I'm going to need a steady supply, and I can't afford it long term. There must be some arrangement we can come to.”

 

The dealer eyed him up. “You look tough enough, but I don't need any more security at the moment. And anyway, I don't want my security guys to be half stoned. So no, I can't use you.”

 

“That wasn't what I meant,” Jack explained. “You offered me a boy, or drugs. I could work for you as a rent boy. You could pay me with heroin.”

 

The dealer looked at him as if he was from another planet, and then burst out laughing. “You, a rent boy! You must be joking. You're about 20 years too old. The clients like them young and fresh.”

 

For a moment Jack was nonplussed, and then insulted. “There must be a need for the more mature, and VERY experienced man, surely?”

 

The dealer was finding the whole idea incredibly funny, and was still laughing. “Not really. Not around here.”

 

“I really am good,” Jack argued, sounding petulant. “And I really need those drugs. There must be something I could do.”

 

The dealer had mellowed during their encounter. “I like you,” he said. “You're a good laugh.” He thought for a moment. “There's always the niche markets. The clients into those tend to be less picky about the age of their 'boy'.” He chuckled again.

 

“What exactly are these niche markets?” Jack asked suspiciously.

 

“Well, the main one is bondage,” started the dealer.

 

Jack couldn't stop his automatic shiver of terror at that suggestion. “No!,” he yelled.

 

The dealer looked surprised, but raised his hands placatingly, “OK, OK, so you don't do bondage. Do you have any suggestions?”

 

After a couple of minutes thought, “I could do bareback,” Jack offered. There wasn't a bug around in the 21st century that could touch him.

 

The dealer smiled, “Now, that could work. I can't usually get anyone to do that, but there's plenty of clients who want it.” He looked Jack up and down again. “OK, if you pass the audition, you're hired. My name's Ray. Come back to my office down the road and we'll talk terms.”

 

* * * *

 

Jack and Ray, accompanied by one of Ray's security men, walked into Ray's office. It was a flat, on the ground floor of a building that, judging by the people hanging round, was used for Ray's rent boy business.

 

Ray didn't waste any time. “Right, prove to me how good you are. Suck me off.”

 

Jack didn't even hesitate. He walked up to Ray and palmed him through his jeans, before unzipping them. He then gave Ray the most mind blowing blow job he had ever had. Ray couldn't help himself, but thrust roughly into Jack's mouth as he neared completion. He let out a loud yell as he came, emptying himself down Jack's throat, before collapsing in a heap on the floor. “You're hired,” he gasped. “I'm not going to fuck you bareback, but if you are as good at that as blow jobs, the punters are going to be ecstatic. Come back tomorrow and we'll sort out the details.”

 

Jack wasn't quite ready to leave though. He couldn't wait another day for his fix. “I need some heroin now. I can't wait until I start working for you. Can I buy 2.5g now?”

 

“Sure, that will be £250 though.”

 

Jack handed over the money, and Ray, who had recovered somewhat, went in to the neighbouring room, and came back with a small packet of light brown powder. Jack took it, but just looked in bemusement at it.

 

“Is something wrong?” Ray asked.

 

“I've never seen it like this,” admitted Jack. “It's always been a liquid when I've had it.”

 

Ray was astounded. What kind of addict gets up to 2.5g per hit, but has never prepared heroin himself. “Don't you know what to do with it?” he asked incredulously.

 

“No,” admitted Jack, “and I don't have any equipment, or even a syringe.” Can I buy what I need off you?”

 

“I'll throw that in,” agreed Ray. “Now watch what I do.” He collected a small burner, a spoon and some water. “This is black tar, so you need to heat water to dissolve it. Then get it in the syringe.” He showed Jack the whole process, and sent him back to his hotel, with a syringe of prepared heroin and the equipment.

 

When Jack had left, Ray thought about how bizarre the situation was. An addict who did not know how to do his drugs, terrified of bondage. There must certainly be a lot of weird stuff in Jack's past.

 

* * *

 

Jack got back to his flat, after the short walk from Ray's place. The anticipation of the upcoming fix was driving him insane. It was so close, and he wanted it so desperately. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he kicked off his shoes and stripped off his jacket and sweatshirt. He went to the bedroom, and took the ligature Ray had given him. He tied it tight around his upper arm, with the help of his teeth. The next step should be easy. He had been trained in the past as a field medic, and knew how to inject patients. He picked up the syringe and, finding a vein, injected himself, pressing the plunger so that all the liquid entered his body. Within seconds blissful forgetfulness overtook him.

 

* * * *

 

Two days later Jack had moved into a small flat, in a building inhabited by several of Ray's boys. There was a bedroom, where business could be conducted, and a small bathroom, kitchen and sitting area. There was a TV, on which Jack watched the news assiduously; checking if UNIT had put a public appeal out for his capture. The flat was grotty, and very basic, but he could live there for free. He had agreed strict rules on his clients with Ray. No bondage of any kind, and no multiple partners. All the money from clients was paid to Ray who, in return, provided Jack with heroin, a place to live and a bit of spending money for other necessities.


	9. Chapter 9

Months went by and Jack became used to his new life. He fell in to a routine, waking late in the day ready for the evening and night's work. He ate little, possibly because his body had been trained to expect a tiny amount of food, or possibly the heroin suppressed his appetite. Through willpower, he managed to keep the heroin use to once every three days, and did not increase the dose. But neither did he decrease it. When the track marks on his arms got so bad, that they might put his clients off, Jack killed himself. It meant little more to him than having a shower. He still found that he needed a lot of sleep, but he would never sleep when a client was present, even a regular client. For one thing he did not want to be that vulnerable, and for another his nightmares would scare them off.

Jack got on well with Ray's other boys, though he did not socialise with them often, or encourage friendships. They were so young and, despite their lifestyle, inexperienced. And, anyway, friends were all potential hostages against you. Jack wanted to avoid going that route again. The nearest thing Jack had to a friend was Ray, and he kept that to a strictly business relationship.

* * * *

 

 

Three months after he escaped from UNIT, Jack was watching the late afternoon news as he got up. As usual there was no mention of an escaped criminal with his photo. After so much time he was beginning to relax about that. There would have been no reason for UNIT to delay if they were going to go public. He wouldn't even bother watching anymore, except that daytime TV was useful in numbing his mind and allowing him to fill the time between fixes with mindless soaps.

 

 

He was washing up his breakfast dishes, when another story came on. It showed a picture of the Valiant. It was undergoing a 250 million pound refurbishment. As part of the background story, the news channel flashed up photos of President Winters and The Master. Jack couldn't help his reaction. He threw himself back against the wall of his flat, practically hyperventilating with shock. The news moved on, but it was several minutes before Jack could calm his racing heart and nerves enough to move.

 

 

When he did manage to move away from the wall, he went straight to the drawer where he kept his drugs and, even though he wasn't due a dose, he started making preparations to shoot up. It was tricky, as he was still shaking, but he eventually managed it. The relief flooded through him as he injected himself.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Hours later, Ray banged on his door. Jack had not shown up at Paddy's Goose where he was supposed to be working. Getting no response, he unlocked the door with his passkey, and walked into the bedroom. Jack lay, fully dressed, on his bed, eyes glazed and with a ligature tied around his arm. An empty syringe was laying on the floor next to the bed.

 

 

Ray looked at the scene angrily. Though he accepted that many of his employees were addicts, and indeed he knew that was what drove them to work for him, he did not expect his people to blow off work to do their drugs. There was a time and a place for that. There was nothing that could be done for the moment, but Jack would be on a warning after this.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

A few days after seeing the Master on TV, Jack was thinking about his team again. He missed them, especially Ianto. He still remembered that night on the Valiant, and how he felt then. It was the one memory that he did not want to lose. He wanted to see them again, and now he could. Although he knew it was a stupid idea, he decided to go to Cardiff; not to make contact with them, but just to look from a distance. To make sure that they were alright and happy. He would have to clear it with Ray though. He couldn't afford to upset him again, or do anything that would jeopardise his heroin supply.

* * * * * * *

 

 

The next time he got a day off, Jack got on a train to Cardiff at 7am. He'd get there late morning, and would be able to spy on the Hub from one of his favourite roofs. Getting off the train at Cathays, to avoid the CCTV near the Millennium Centre, Jack made his way to the Plass through back alleys. He went up to the roof of a building that allowed him to overlook the exits from the Hub, and waited. His patience was rewarded after a couple of hours, when Ianto, Gwen and Owen emerged together, and headed to the coffee house for lunch. Tosh was not with them. Jack didn't expect such a strong reaction, but he suddenly felt his emotions welling up. Seeing them there, looking fit and well, he remembered why he had done what he did. But it also brought to the fore his abject loneliness, and the longing to be able to return home. Jack drank in the sight of them, as they walked across the Plass. Ianto was as gorgeous as ever, and looked far healthier than he ever had on the Valiant. They all did of course.

 

 

He waited another hour for them to come back, and watched them reenter the Hub.

 

 

After they had disappeared from view, Jack moved to leave. He had hoped to see Tosh as well, but that would have to wait for another time. He hoped she was OK, but there was no way to find out. He was feeling a strange mix of happiness to see them, and anger mixed with sorrow at their desertion. It affected his concentration, and he walked right in front of a CCTV camera as he left the building.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Tosh had stayed to man the Hub, while the others went out for lunch, and continued to work on her computer as they walked back in. Returning to work, the three never noticed as a silent alarm popped up on Tosh's computer screen. She looked at it in surprise, clicking on it to get the details. Then grabbing her coat, and rushing out, she called to the others, “I'm just going to grab myself a sandwich, see you later.”

 

 

As she left the Hub, Tosh thought quickly about what she had seen. Jack had been one street away from the square, and, if she was quick, she could catch him in the alley between two main roads. Reaching her goal, Tosh spotted Jack walking away from her in the alley, and, approaching quietly, said “Jack”.

 

 

Jack turned abruptly, and froze in shock. A brief moment of panic showed on his face, but he quashed it fiercely. “Tosh,” he stated calmly and stared at her, waiting.

 

 

Tosh approached warily, Jack didn't realise, but she had seen the fleeting look of fear. And she understood why. He had no reason to trust any of them not to turn him over to UNIT. She continued her appraisal as she drew nearer. Jack was thin to the point of gauntness, and he had a haunted look about him that she could not place. He looked wrong in the jeans and sweatshirt he was wearing.

 

 

“Why are you here, Jack?” she asked.

 

 

Jack hesitated, before stating simply, “I escaped from UNIT, and I wanted to see how you were all doing.”

 

 

“Are you crazy!” Tosh hissed emphatically. “They have us on alert to let them know if you come near us.”

 

 

He swallowed nervously, “Have you called them, Tosh?”

 

 

“No! I would never turn anyone over to UNIT, no matter what they had done. You know how they treated me.”

 

 

“Do the others know I'm here?” Jack asked nervously.

 

 

“No, and we'd better keep it that way,” Tosh replied. “I'm not sure, but I wouldn't bet that they wouldn't turn you in.”

 

 

Even though he already knew that, hearing Tosh confirm it hurt. “How did you know I was here?”

 

 

“I had an automated program to alert me if the CCTV picked you up,” Tosh explained.

 

 

Jack berated himself for not being as careful as he should have been. For hours he had religiously avoided the CCTV, keeping in the blind spots. But this time he had been careless.

 

 

Tosh could barely believe that this shadow of a man was the flamboyant boss she had worked for just a few years before. Her compassion outweighed her horror about the atrocities she had seen him commit on the Valiant. “How have you been Jack, and is there anything you need?”

 

“I'm fine,” he replied. “I have everything I need, and I'm keeping a low profile.”

 

“Where have you been living?”

 

“I don't think I'd better tell you where I live now,” Jack answered with a grimace.

 

“Did UNIT mistreat you?” Tosh asked guiltily. “I tried to get the others to get you assigned to us, but they wouldn't even consider it.”

 

 

“Mistreat?,” Jack repeated, staring off into the distance. “That all depends on what you think the proper treatment of a treasonous convicted torturer is.” He shivered, and then folded his arms around himself.

 

 

“How are you all?” Jack asked, changing the subject hurriedly. “I watched the others go to lunch.”

 

 

“We're fine,” she assured him. “No one has been seriously injured. Gwen married Rhys, and Owen's got himself a steady girlfriend.” There was a note of sadness in her eyes as she said this, that Jack picked up on, although she was trying to be happy for Owen. “We had to find a couple of extra staff to help and they are working out well.”

 

 

“And Ianto?” Jack asked, keeping the longing out of his voice, but Tosh could see it in his eyes.

 

 

“He's fine. Just getting on with the job.”

 

 

“Does he ever mention me?”

 

 

Tosh looked down, “I'm sorry, no he doesn't.”

 

 

“I still love him,” Jack told her softly.

 

 

“I know you do.”

 

 

Pulling himself together, Jack straightened and prepared to leave. “Don't tell anyone I was here. Please.”

 

 

“Of course I won't. Goodbye Jack.” And she watched him walk away.


	10. Chapter 10

About a year after Jack arrived in Manchester, Jack and Ray went as usual to the Paddy's Goose pub on Bloom Street in the Village. It was a centre for rent boys, but Jack was a slightly different commodity. Ray touted him as a special deal. £25 for a blow job, £50 for a quickie in the pub bathroom, £100 bareback, or £600 for the whole night, bareback, in the nearby flat.

 

On this occasion, someone wanted the whole night. The man handed the money over to Ray, then followed Jack back to his flat. Closing the door behind them, Jack turned and smiled at his client. He led him into the bedroom. “How would you like me,” he asked, provocatively.

 

The man eyed up the bed, and Jack. Smirking, he replied, “naked, and on your back.” He stood and waited for Jack to undress. “My name is Rick by the way,” he added.

 

Jack complied with a grin. “Just as you like, Rick.” Inside one minute he had shed his clothes, and was lying on the bed.

 

Rick was still fully dressed. He straddled Jack and, grabbing his arms, raised them over his head, so that his wrists were near the barred headboard. At that point he broke the rules of their agreement, and produced a pair of metal handcuffs.

 

Jack reacted with terror instantly, throwing the man off him, and leaping up. “You agreed, no bondage!” Jack cried.

 

“Oh come on! What sort of a whore are you, if you won't do handcuffs,” the man argued. He moved towards Jack again, his expression threatening.

 

Jack moved rapidly to the wall near the bed, and hit his panic button. The advantage of working for Ray, was that he looked after his people. There were eleven of his boys, plus Jack, working out of the building. Ray had security people on standby in case of trouble. Most clients were fine, but occasionally one needed to be removed forcibly.

 

In less than two minutes, Jack's client was being manhandled down the stairs to the exit, where Ray returned his money, and informed him that he was barred. He left angrily, shouting imprecations back at Ray.

 

When Rick had gone, Ray went up to Jack's room. By this time Jack was dressed in jeans, but sitting on the bed and trembling. “I'm sorry,” he offered.

 

“What happened,” Ray asked.

 

“He tried to tie me up.”

 

Ray was well aware of Jack's aversion to bondage, and had deduced from his behaviour that there were painful events in his past that had led to this. He and Jack had agreed on very clear ground rules for Jack's clients. “That's OK, “ he reassured, ”he knew that was not allowed. He deserved to be thrown out. Take a few days off. You'll still be paid.”

 

“Thanks,” murmured Jack, surprised and touched by Ray's concern. It was strange to have someone who cared enough to protect him, even if it was his employer. Jack couldn't remember the last time someone had protected him. But the thing he needed to fully calm him was a fix, even if he wasn't due for one yet. Just this once wouldn't matter.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jack decided to visit Cardiff again. He had not been for several months, and now, when he had a few days off, and was up to date with the heroin, was a perfect time. Grabbing his jacket, he set off for the train station.

 

* * * *

 

He was more careful this time, there would be no chance of anyone seeing him on the CCTV. He reached the building, where he could watch the Hub, with no problems, and settled in to watch. As before, the team left the Hub to go for lunch. This time Tosh was with them, and Jack smiled to see them all healthy and safe. But then a beautiful dark haired woman came up to them. She talked to the group for a few minutes, before linking arms with Ianto and heading off with him across the Plass, leaving the rest of the team to carry on to the coffee shop.

 

When Ianto and the woman were out of sight of the team, but not out of Jack's bird's eye view, they stopped. Ianto hugged the woman close to his body, and they kissed. It was a slow and intimate kiss. Jack watched in stunned disbelief, as it became clear that Ianto and the woman were romantically involved. Thoughts ran through Jack's head. Why wasn't he pleased for Ianto? He was having a happy life, which Jack had paid for in blood and pain. He should be pleased. But he wasn't.

 

Though he should have known better, deep down Jack had still hoped that he and Ianto could be reunited. On the Valiant, when he had known the truth, Ianto had said that he loved him. Jack had never let go of the hope that, someday, Ianto would know the truth again, and would love him again.

 

No longer. He had to accept that he would never regain Ianto's love. And, he agued to himself, why did he even want to? Ianto had betrayed him, along with the others, before Abaddon, then treated him like dirt while they were on the Valiant. Ianto rejected his plea for help, when the rebel mob surrounded him. Even if Ianto had wanted it, would he ever have been able to fully forgive that, and return to him? At least that wasn't an issue now.

 

Tears blinding him, Jack stumbled his way back to the train station, and back to Manchester. People were giving him strange looks, and giving him a wide berth. He was outwardly calm when he reached home, but he had finally completed the stone facade around his heart, filling in the cracks that had been his secret hope. It was time to move on. He would not go back to Cardiff again.

 

* * * *

 

Jack prepared the needle with the heroin, and pulled a cord tight around his left bicep. His thoughts drifted again to Cardiff. He knew now that his past life was gone forever, but that was alright. He had finally accepted it. He might not be happy in his new life, but it was orders of magnitude better than the Valiant or the UNIT prison. It was OK, he was content. Pushing the needle in his arm, he pressed the plunger and sank onto his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued soon in Part 3 of the trilogy (A New Dawn).


End file.
